


Peter Parker, Stress Baker Extraordinaire

by SingerQueen



Series: Peter Parker, Stress Baker Verse [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baking, Cookies, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Tony Stark, Stress Baking, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 07:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingerQueen/pseuds/SingerQueen
Summary: Tony calls her in a panic.“May. You gotta help me. The kid isbaking...?”May pauses for a only moment before she’s laughing. Tony doesn’t understand how this can be funny, Peter is in the kitchen, elbows deep in flour and batter and Tony has no freaking clue if this is about to be a fire hazard.-AKA: Peter Parker deals with his anxiety by baking. Stress baking spider-man fic, featuring a dash of Irondad and a sprinkle of fluff.





	Peter Parker, Stress Baker Extraordinaire

Tony calls her in a panic.

“May. You gotta help me. The kid is _baking_...?”

May pauses for a only moment before she’s laughing. Tony doesn’t understand how this can be funny, Peter is in the kitchen, elbows deep in flour and batter and Tony has no freaking clue if this is about to be a fire hazard.

There is no one else around this weekend, just Tony and Peter, who gets to stay over for training and just in case his patrols go bad (there’s much better medical treatment in the compound than in a random apartment in Queens). They’re alone and usually Tony can handle that just fine. They tinker around in the lab, improve the suits, order pizza and watch the geekiest movies Peter can find, but right at this moment, Tony desperately needs some assistance from May.

When she stops laughing, May’s voice is still light with amusement. “He’s a stress-baker, Stark. This happens a lot. When he’s worried about something, he bakes.”

Tony pauses. “And that’s... safe? What’s the likelihood he’s gonna burn himself? Or my compound down?”

“He knows how to bake. He’s not going to burn anything,” May says. “And honestly, there’s a thousand unhealthier stress-coping mechanisms he could have picked from, so I’d count our blessings with this one.”

Tony thinks back on stumbling drunk back into his kitchen at three AM during finals weeks at MIT. He thinks of nameless women. He thinks of party drugs and study drugs and relaxation drugs and... yeah, the baking doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

“Okay, yeah, point.”

“He’ll be fine.” May continues, “Just sit and talk to him. And you can monitor him - more baked goods means more anxiety. You can use that as a gage to see how much he’s freaking out.”

“You want you me to monitor him? What, like he’s one of my bots?”

“Sure. Like, one batch of cookies means minor stress. Six batches of cookies means full-fledged panic attack.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

“You don’t need to stop him, just make sure he’s okay. If you make him stop, he’ll just lose sleep and find other ways to express that worry.” May continues, “This way, you’ve got his stress contained and honestly, it doesn’t hurt that you get baked goods out of it too.”

Tony glances back at the kitchen, unsure if he can handle this with as much nonchalance as May is.

No sooner has May finished talking that a voice calls out to them from the kitchen.

“I can hear you two on the phone!”

Tony startles. Damn that kid’s spidey-senses. But May just chuckles. “Sorry, kid!” she calls through the phone, speaking to Peter now that they were caught. “And good luck with whatever’s got you worried! Talk later, Tony. You’ve got this.”

And with that, May’s hung up, leaving him all alone with a stressed-out teenager.

Tony shuffles back into the kitchen, trying his best to look confident and not look so caught out by the kid. But Peter was busy measuring a frankly disturbing number of chocolate chips into a bowl.

“So... kid.” Tony begins, “Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever it is.”

Peter glances up. There’s a smudge of flour across his nose and dammit, it’s adorable. Tony really loves this kid.

“I just... I’m sorry about the mess, there’s kinda chocolate chips everywhere. But I promise I can repay you with cookies, there’s a couple batches cooling and then another one I’m putting in right now, they should be ready to eat in maybe another ten minutes. Look, I’m really sorry-”

“Kid.” Tony’s arms cross over his chest. “It’s okay. I don’t care about the mess or the kitchen, I just care about you. What’s on your mind?”

As if Tony’s found the off button, the rambling stops. “It’s- it’s stupid... I have this Spanish presentation tomorrow.”

Tony seats himself at one of the barstools along the kitchen counter, righting a container of baking soda that lies on its side. “Spanish presentation? Kid, you’re good at Spanish. I’m sure you’ll nail it.”

“Yeah, but it’s an oral presentation! I have to talk in front of the whole class! In Spanish! And... it’s not, like, a group project, or anything. It’s gonna be just me up there alone for a whole ten minutes...”

“Ah,” Tony says knowingly. And he gets it now, he does. He glances around the countertop, littered with chocolate chips and cinnamon dust. Underneath a bag of flour, he spots some little slips of paper. “Those your flashcards?”

Peter glances over and a few of his curls flip back over when they were falling in his face. Tony’s heart does a little flop, too, watching his kid. “Yeah, those are my cards. But I’m not supposed to use them tomorrow, I’ll get marked down if I do.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll use them.” Tony reaches over and dusts the cards off a little before neatening them into a small pile. “You give your presentation, I’ll follow along and correct you if you miss something.”

Peter’s eyes get wide. “You don’t mind? I mean, you’re not busy or anything or-”

“Too busy for you? Nope.” Tony interrupts. “Now, Spanish. Go. Entertain me.”

His kid laughs. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Thanks, Tony.”

“Spanish. Go.”

“Okay! Yeah, I’m going.”

Peter runs through his presentation three times while he settles the last batch of cookies in the oven. He doesn’t make many mistakes, but Tony makes sure he’s not hard on himself when he does. Tony ruffles the kid’s curls when he’s done, the cards tucked safely back into his backpack and a plate of cookies settled between them.

Tony pops one in his mouth and his eyes bug out. “These... these are fantastic, kid, what the hell?”

Peter grinned, chocolate on his teeth. “Did you think they were gonna suck?”

“Kind of, kid. No offense.”

“None taken, I don’t know any other fifteen year olds who bake.”

Tony grabs another cookie, eyes still on Peter. “You feel better now, kiddo?”

“Much better. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I have more ideas for this verse, so if you enjoyed and/or think I should continue, please let me know what you liked. Comments and kudos motivate me. <3


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